The Most Beautiful Citizen
That much was enough. Johan was certain now—the mage before him was the very mage who had helped ensnare the troll.
"How could she not know? She's a court mage of the Emperor himself."
"Oh, but she could easily not. Do you have any idea how many mages flock to the Emperor's side? Some hold official court mage positions, others slip in and out in secret... No one but the Emperor himself knows how many of them haunt the court."
Remarkably, someone of Kaenerna's standing actually belonged to the respectable end of that spectrum. The Order didn't look kindly on mages in general, but it had never branded Kaenerna's craft as heresy or blasphemy. The Empire, after all, was crawling with mages who were several times more wicked, more self-serving, and more dubious than she was.
The old Emperor had grown ever more devoted to magic and superstition, and of late he'd taken to summoning not merely the officially sanctioned mages but all manner of suspicious characters to his side. Power made such things possible—wisdom did not. It was conduct that invited suspicion, loathing, and contempt from everyone around him. And then there was the matter of...
Even the Emperor couldn't openly admit to commanding a troll.
Magic that controlled monsters was a knife's-edge art at best. It was the kind of magic that could get a man branded a heretic and burned—or beaten to death by furious villagers long before the Church ever laid hands on him. If Janina truly had bent the troll to her will, then of course she'd cut and run the moment she was caught. Once admitted, there was no telling what would become of her.
"I see."
Janina was no pushover, either. She seemed to have sensed danger in the moment Johan hesitated. Her smile grew softer, and the mole beneath her eye glimmered faintly. A mage who trafficked in mysteries knew how to pour power into her voice, and for someone already blessed with charm, amplifying it was hardly an effort at all.
But Johan resisted with the strength of a hardened soul. He who had not wavered under far heavier pressure was not going to be ensnared by a little glamour.
No wonder people distrust mages.
They tried to manipulate you like this the moment opportunity knocked—who could ever relax around one?
"You know Lady Kaenerna, then?"
"Of course! Lady Kaenerna and I are quite close."
Janina was undeniably clever. She had sharply caught the faint trace of fondness in Johan's voice when Kaenerna's name left his lips. He knew Kaenerna had been held hostage in his camp, of course—but weaving the two of them together on such thin thread and striking so precisely was beyond the average person's skill.
That confidence, however, was her mistake. The relationship Janina had imagined was the one she herself enjoyed with the Emperor—lord and advisor, a transactional exchange of favors. But Johan had actually talked with Kaenerna at length, far more than she realized.
"How pleasant. A friend of Lady Kaenerna's."
"I never dreamed I'd have the honor of meeting you. I've only heard the stori—"
"Seize that mage! Flog her until she speaks the whole truth!"
"My lord! My lord! What are you doing?!"
Janina shrieked, her young face flooded with terror. Her distress was so pitiable that even the guards faltered.
Are we really supposed to hit someone like that?
But Johan's mercenaries hauled her up without so much as a flicker of expression. Whether Janina was the greatest beauty of the age or not, the mercenaries followed Johan's orders without question—because he was the one watching them do it.
"Where do you get the nerve to insult me with such a flimsy lie? Lady Kaenerna has no friends."
"......"
Janina was struck dumb. She'd tripped over something she never could have anticipated, and for the life of her she couldn't fathom how the young count had caught on.
"You can't treat a guest like this!"
"If you truly serve the Emperor, you shall be treated as a hostage. But if a letter goes to the Emperor and no proper reply returns, you will be executed for the crime of deceiving me."
Now it was Johan's turn to strike where it hurt. Unlike Kaenerna, Janina held no official post such as court mage—hardly surprising, given the suspicious magic she practiced. If a letter arrived demanding ransom for such a woman, the Emperor would almost certainly disown her on the spot. Not just the Emperor. Anyone would.
"The whip is here, my lord."
"Prepare it."
"I'll talk! My lord, please! Spare my life!"
"Then talk as you are. I may still need the whip."
At Johan's frigid words, Janina finally understood that her charms had no effect on him whatsoever. A truly iron soul.
Janina possessed firm convictions, of a sort. She could tolerate insults to the Emperor, to the gods, even to her ancestors and parents—but an insult to her own person was intolerable. Pain was much the same. She confessed immediately: yes, she had controlled the troll. Through shamanic arts, elixirs, and the power of arcana, she could command a troll for a short time.
"Gods above!"
"Savage is one thing, but to think of putting a monster to work! Have you no shame!"
The guards and city councilmen who had been listening recoiled in horror. They had known the Emperor was slipping off the rails, but the thought of him actually trying to harness monsters was beyond belief.
Johan, who had been diligently memorizing every detail of how a troll might be commanded, agreed with a perfectly straight face.
"Well said. How could anyone who believes in the gods commit such an act?"
"I've confessed, so I'm safe now, right?"
Janina asked urgently. She hadn't been particularly worried back when the knights were first captured. She was, after all, a charming mage—so long as she could wrap the enemy around her finger, she'd been confident she could move freely even while the knights languished as hostages.
But the situation had turned in an instant. If this went on, she might very well end up drowned in the sea out there.
"That mage must die, my lord! How do we know she won't call other monsters down on the city!"
"She bears us ill will—she could summon monsters at any moment! Kill her now!"
These fucking savages, honestly...
Janina cursed a blue streak in her head. Knowing the magic that controlled monsters didn't mean summoning one was easy—if it were, she'd have escaped long ago. Magic was a demanding discipline that required extensive preparation.
Should I threaten them? No. That could actually get me killed.
"Enough. I understand your concerns, but taking the sea-horn dragon will require her help."
Janina nodded eagerly. The cityfolk regarded her with expressions of profound, complicated meaning, and Janina read the murderous intent in their eyes.
"My lord, please, post extra guards. I'm afraid these people will kill me."
"What nonsense...! When have we ever—!"
"What do you take our honor for!"
"Typical of a fallen mage—her mouth is as filthy as the rest of her!"
The cityfolk, stung in a tender spot, flared up in outrage.
How did he know I was going to send someone in the night to kill her?
"To summon the sea-horn dragon, you select the most beautiful person in the city, have them washed spotless, anointed with rosewater and musk, adorned in finery—and then, on the night of the dark moon, you bind them to a pillar near the shore."
"You do talk well."
Johan was genuinely impressed. Give Janina one mercenary with a whip standing beside her, and her tongue worked miracles.
A snake beastfolk?
He hadn't noticed at first, but once she grew frightened, the distinctive slit pupils and forked tongue of a serpent-folk revealed themselves.
"And it will come out? If it doesn't, may I flog you?"
"...Of course."
Janina started to say it won't work, but a lash looked about to swing, so she agreed. If it failed, she'd worry about the consequences then.
"It's all well and good but... my lord. How are we to determine the most beautiful person?"
"Good point. If Izelia were here, I'd have asked her."
"?"
"??"
The knights and Janina alike wondered if they'd heard something insane, but prudently kept their mouths shut. Johan carried a sword at his hip, and even without drawing it, he was a man who could snap a neck or two.
"Lady Janina here is conspicuously beautiful—could she not serve as the bait? She's also well-versed in magic..."
May you be struck by lightning and die, you cursed knight.
"I—I'm far too plain!"
"Don't you look a bit scrawny and unremarkable?"
"......"
"Do I? Well, if you're that confident in yourself..."
"N-no, no! You're quite right!"
Johan figured that if both the knights and Janina herself agreed, he might as well try using her as the bait.
Janina, naturally, recoiled in horror. To her mind, being ugly beat being bait.
"In the end, magic cares less for truth than for belief. Manufacture that belief, and objective truth ceases to matter at all."
"...?!"
At this startlingly mage-like remark, Janina nearly jumped out of her skin. That was not something a layman noble could say.
Did he learn that from Kaenerna?
No—if Kaenerna hadn't taken an arrow to the head, she'd never have done such a thing, would she...?
"Gather the cityfolk and hand out shards of pottery. Instruct them to write the name of the citizen they believe is the most beautiful."
"That... that is a truly brilliant idea, my lord!"
"...?"
For a moment Johan thought Fahid was mocking him. But Fahid spoke in complete earnest.
What nobleman would ever put such a decision to a popular vote? A lord would simply decide himself—or, being exceptionally magnanimous, consult a priest at most. Who would carve up their own authority and honor and hand the pieces to others? Choosing was itself both authority and honor.
I thought he was joking.
It wasn't even as if the cityfolk would be currying favor by answering...
But Fahid's guileless eyes said he meant every word. Even Janina looked astonished—she hadn't expected the matter to be settled so easily.
"I confess I lacked such insight, my lord. You possess the wisdom of a sage."
"I get the point, so shut it."
"?!"
"Congratulations, Aricu. You are the most beautiful person in the city."
"There has been a misunderstanding, my lord! A misunderstanding! The citizens have clearly misread something!"
"The dark moon rises soon, and there's no time to relitigate it. The damage mounts by the day, so we must resolve this quickly."
Aricu, representative of the Stonemasons' Guild, resisted furiously, but the servants' hands were relentless in scrubbing him down and stripping off his clothes.
"I didn't know it either, but if that's the city's aesthetic standard, I suppose that's that."
"No! No!"
Aricu was old, wrinkled, and dry-skinned, but the cityfolk had regarded this as a kind of test. Whoever voted for the guild master with the foulest temper and the longest memory for grudges would have no trouble to fear afterward—so they had chosen Aricu.
"My lord, I find myself moved to tears. To think I would live to see such a sight."
Partuti looked ready to die of joy at the sight of Aricu in full evening dress.
"Don't misunderstand—he is merely bait, not a sacrifice."
"He could still die most unhappily, could he not?"
"Spare me the unpleasant commentary. Did you bring what I asked for?"
"Yes, my lord."
A sloshing sound arose—the sound of a thick, viscous black liquid surging inside a barrel.
"I hadn't imagined you knew how to make fire from Devil's Blood."
Skilled alchemists knew how to use petroleum to produce combustible compounds. Liquid made this way, once ignited, refused to be extinguished and simply kept burning and spreading.
Johan had originally planned to sit down with Partuti and the guild's artisans and search for the right compound—find the petroleum-based mixture that burned longest, and the problem was solved.
Yet astonishingly, Partuti and the guild's masters had already known the formula. They simply never used it. It was considered ill-omened, an unwelcome thing.
From Johan's perspective, it felt like picking up an easy meal from the table—dessert included. And though it was technically a secret that should never have been shared, Partuti had handed it over without a moment's hesitation. Truly an oak befitting a guild master.
I have to think the way that thing senses.
The city's failures had taught Johan a lesson. With trap after trap failing, he had come to appreciate just how keen the creature's senses were.
Siege engines, however carefully positioned, betrayed themselves by their very size no matter how close or small. You could deceive beasts, but a monster was another matter.
But those sealed jars of unquenchable fire, once shut tight, gave away nothing on the outside. Even left lying nearby, they'd raise no suspicion at all.
"It's surfaced, my lord!"
With a heavy, sloshing thrash, an enormous shape came crawling up out of the water. The sea-horn dragon, unmistakably.
Everyone at their posts breathed a sigh of relief. All of them had been worrying.
"So it really would crawl out for an ugly piece of bait like that."